


The Other One

by Joan_Wilder



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gen, Holmes Brothers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:13:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1538966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joan_Wilder/pseuds/Joan_Wilder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Hooper's and Sherlock Holmes' worlds are turned upside down when she meets a beautiful and mysterious man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Meet me in the morgue in 10. – SH_

Molly Hooper sighed looking down at the text; it had been a long day. Hunched over with her elbows on the desk, she turned her head to the right and warily stared at the day’s stack of unfinished paperwork while absentmindedly rubbing her left shoulder.

“Impossible man…” she muttered with a tired grin. Though her relationship with Sherlock Holmes had changed significantly and for the better since the Fall there simply were some things about him that never would, and she totally accepted that. So she pulled herself up, grabbed her keys and promptly exited her office.

She strode through the south corridor of St. Bartholomew’s basement, white coat and neat pony tail breezing behind, scrolling through various email messages on her mobile, oblivious to her surroundings, when she literally rammed into something hard. Wide-eyed, she yelped and fell backwards landing with a thud. She looked up, spewing apologies when she locked eyes with him.

They were mesmerizing, luminous and baby blue.

Her mouth and throat went immediately dry, her heart stopped.

He was reaching out to her with a laughing smile when she began to register- and wonder how long- she had been sitting there staring at him, dumbfounded. Her heart jumpstarted and immediately threatened to pound out of her chest.

“Dr. Hooper,” he said in a velvety tone, pulling her to her feet, “I truly apologize for my carelessness. Did I injure you?”

“Huh?” she continued to gape, and then snapped her mouth shut, quickly shaking her head, “Sorry, what?” She licked her dry lips, hoping her salivary glands would begin to respond again soon. She could feel an incredibly warm sensation pooling in her gut, radiating to her limbs. In fact, it was downright hot, she was hot, sweating.

“Did I hurt you?” he questioned, head slightly turned and brow furrowed, never dropping his gaze, “Are you feeling quite all right?”

He was tall and well proportioned, dressed in an immaculate suit. His skin was like porcelain. And those eyes: large and close-set, lovely eyebrows, sitting upon perfectly sculpted cheekbones; sleek Roman nose. His lips were thin and chin sharp, but his smile more than compensated for any perceived (and impossible) imperfection; in fact, lit up and transformed his face, completely. His hair was chestnut, wavy, short and well kept.

He was stunning.

He was still holding her hand in his warm, firm grip while she made a feeble attempt to gain her wits about her, like in the “old days”. She fleetingly thought that there was only one other man in her entire life that had made her feel that way.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she finally croaked, “are you quite all right?”

“More than fine.” He laughed easily.

She let go of his hand and smoothed her clothing, laughing with him, albeit nervously. “Well, then I really must be going, unfortunately… but thank you- I mean- no, I apologize for- uh…” she was clearly flustered.

“Please, don’t,” he interrupted- implored her, in fact- gathering her hand in his again (unbeknownst to her), eyes smoldering; and then leaned over and touched his warm, soft lips to her knuckles. “The pleasure has been all of mine, Dr. Hooper.”

Her brain circuitry went haywire as she seriously considered throwing the man to the floor, ripping his clothes off and having her way with him right then and there.

 _What the hell is going on with me…?_ She thought hysterically.

He released her hand once more with half a smile, slowly passed her by and then finally dropped his impenetrable gaze. She suddenly began to panic.

“Wait!” she said a bit too desperately, she feared. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name!”

“Sigerson,” he said, “I’m sure you will see me again soon, Molly Hooper.”

And then he was gone.

And then she finally caught her breath.

“Sigerson…” she whispered. She wondered for a minute more and then slowly started on her way again, looking over her shoulder twice.

It never dawned on her that he already knew her name.


	2. Chapter 2

As Molly approached the steel doors of St. Bart’s morgue she wiped the perspiration from her brow and exhaled. She had no idea what it was that she had just experienced but she felt like she looked disheveled. She knew she needed to compose herself in order to avoid Sherlock’s scrutiny. She paused; she could hear the voices of Sherlock, Dr. John Watson, and Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade just beyond the barrier. She took one last deep breath and pushed through the doors.

She entered in her normal manner acting as though nothing other-worldly had just happened to her. Everyone went silent and they stared at her. She glanced at each of them with a smile to no avail.

_What is this, am I in the Twilight Zone, seriously?_ She smirked to herself.

They continued to look at her, puzzled.

“So,” she looked down at her mobile, “What can I help you all with?” She cleared her throat, still trying to pull herself together.

“Molly,” Sherlock said slowly at first, “we came here to see Marion Dorsett’s body.”

He studied her with suspicion, but she swore something was different in his speculation.

“I believe I’ve solved the case and need you to confirm it for me.” He continued eyeing her, “Are you feeling well? You are flush and seem somewhat disoriented.”

The other two cackled in agreement and ascended upon her. Sherlock stood back and continued his analysis.

“Actually, Molly, Sherlock’s right: you don’t look well-“ John said.

“Seriously, Molls,” DI Lestrade stated, “and now you’re peaked-“

“No, no, I’m really quite fine…“ She interjected, shooting daggers at Sherlock.

“Yes, she really is quite fine.” He said quietly, looking back at them.

Sherlock knew. Molly had met someone and it was apparent that her attraction was instantaneous. He was truly disturbed and reluctant to discuss his analysis out loud, to John, Lestrade, or anyone. He decided to take her aside and discuss it privately.

Molly stole a glance at Sherlock with a mix of weariness and relief. Of course he read her instantly but she resolved to not to admit to anything.

“Molly,” he breezed over, taking hold of her arm and leading her out of the room. She knew somehow he couldn’t wait.

“Sherlock…” she replied with some trepidation.

Once they were out of earshot of the others he rounded on her, “Molly, tell me exactly what happened between the time that I texted you and when you showed up?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” she recalled, “I ran into someone.” She smiled, almost dreamily, “I was embarrassed, really, but it was nothing.”

She was lying. His eyes narrowed at her and he found himself suddenly grappling with a feeling akin to jealousy.

“Well, judging by your track record with romantic attachments, I wouldn’t count on this latest acquaintance as being anything resembling normal and would seriously consider holding off on any future contact.” He said coldly.

She felt the color drain from her face as though she had been slapped. It was positively the worst thing he had said to her in over two years. She glared at him, hands clenched at her sides.

“Thank you for your deduction but I hardly think that you should consider yourself an expert in romantic attachments- especially after your ‘engagement’ fiasco.” She spat, silently reprimanding herself for her concession. “Furthermore, it is absolutely none of your business.”

He blinked at her a couple of times, not believing the authoritative command in her voice. Indeed, Molly had grown into a much more confident woman. She had moved on. He wasn’t sure he liked this newer version of her.

“Molly, I,” he started to apologize.

“This conversation ends here,” she concluded, “I believe we’ve left John and Greg long enough.” And with that she spun on her heel.

He paused for a moment longer, still awestruck over her behavior. He felt a jab in his chest that began to flare. He cursed under his breath, berating himself for acting like an idiot, turned and rejoined the others.


	3. Chapter 3

It was late when Molly finally made her way back to her office. She was still heated from her exchange with Sherlock in the morgue but too tired to give it much more thought. He barely looked at her during the remainder of their meeting, and she sensed the others felt some discomfort, as well.

_Daft, prick…_ she grumbled to herself.

She had worked incredibly hard over the past couple of years to come to terms with her feelings. When she had met Tom she thought it was the turning point. But then Sherlock came back, and with him, everything that she thought was dead and buried. And then he started treating her differently, in earnest, more respectfully, like a real friend. In actuality, it was bittersweet: not only was she still in love with him but now she liked him, too.

_Sentiment, a chemical defect…_ he drawled in her mind.

She reached over her desk to grab her laptop when she noticed the white business card sitting on the keyboard. She picked it up and turned it over in her hand. The overhead light gleamed on the black monogrammed ‘S’ in the center, on the back a phone number. Her heart leapt into her throat again as her eyes darted around the room half expecting to see her beautiful mystery man right then.

She fished for her mobile in her pocket, dialed the number and leaned back against her desk. She noticed her heart pounding furiously, feeling her blood coursing through her veins. All of her fatigue disappeared along with her troubles with Sherlock.

“Dr. Hooper…” Sigerson answered, “I was hoping I might hear from you this evening.” His voice was rich, seductive.

“Hello,” she breathed, “I was surprised to find your card. I didn’t think I would see you again.”

“I told you that you would.” He stated confidently, “In fact, I need to see you as soon as possible, tomorrow evening, after your shift.” His timbre lowered.

Molly became aware of the dull ache and moisture gathering between her legs. She briefly closed her eyes and squeezed her thighs together to ease the pressure. She felt flush, like she could feel every fiber of her being pulsating in time with her (increasing) heartbeat and labored breathing.

“You want me, Molly; I can feel your energy, it’s emanating…” he crooned.

She trembled and shifted again, “Oh, God, yes,” she whispered.

“I want to help you release all of that pent up energy you’re carrying inside.” His tone was darker, huskier.

“Yes…” she exhaled, trembling.

The ache in her core turned into a steady, almost painful, throbbing sensation; her wetness seeping through her panties, slowly drooling down the inside of her thighs. Her clothing felt suddenly too heavy and restrictive; her nipples hardened against the fabric of her bra as she clawed at her light blouse, unconsciously tugging it from her pencil skirt.

“I can make you feel sensations that you never thought existed… I will teach you the meaning of ecstasy” he continued softly. His lush voice alone was enough to drive her to the brink. “I will arrange to have a car pick you up at your flat tomorrow evening.”

“Yes…” she mindlessly agreed, her body practically on the verge of orgasm.

“Good night, Dr. Hooper,” he murmured, “I look forward to our engagement.” And then he was gone.

She slammed the mobile down behind her, exhaling loudly. She scrambled to the door, locked it, and then proceeded to close the blinds behind her desk. Once she felt secure enough, she hiked her skirt up around her waist, shucked off her soaking underwear and threw herself into the chair. She leaned back in her seat, spread her legs wide and braced her feet on the edge of her desk.

She eased her left hand between her thighs and began to massage her enflamed pussy. She released a breathy moan, let her eyes slip closed and rolled her head back on her shoulders. She instinctively curled her legs in closer to her body, reached her right hand around the back of her thigh, inserted two fingers into her swollen cunt and slowly drew them in and out while continuing to apply pressure to her clit.

She was vaguely aware of the intense heat she was encapsulated in; small beads of sweat broke out on her forehead and in between her constricted breasts. She became razor focused as she increased pressure and speed with her hands while pumping her hips in time, her entire body shaking from her impending release. All at once, she gasped as she squeezed her eyes shut, gritted her teeth and shuddered violently; the walls of her pussy convulsed around her slick fingers as the remains of her orgasm washed over her.

She sighed, letting her feet slide down off the desk. She opened her eyes slowly, looked around and worried whether or not anyone had actually heard her.


End file.
